journals & ice cream: side stories
by Estora
Summary: A collection of one-shots, vignettes, short stories, outtakes, and alternate scenes and omakes belonging to my journals & ice cream series.
1. things better said

_Disclaimer:__ These stories are based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

Author's Notes: This is a collection of one-shots, vignettes, and short stories (sometimes even alternate scenes and outtakes/omakes) belonging to the _journals & ice cream_ series. They don't impact on the understanding of the main eight-story arc, but they do help make the narrative richer. I'll try to post them in chronological order, in accordance with the _journals & ice cream_ stories.

* * *

Summary: Set between _Draco Malfoy and the Perils of Dating_ and _Ronald Weasley and the Midlife Crises_. Astoria pens a cathartic letter to her ex-husband.

**things better said**

_July 2, 2019_

Dear Draco,

I know it's been several months since I last saw you, but I hear from the gossip vine – and the _Prophet_ – that you are doing well. I'm glad. Truly, I am. I think we've said most of what he had to say to each other already, so… I'm writing because it is cathartic, and because I know you'll understand, and I think you'd like to know what happened after that night in April anyway. You needn't reply to this. I don't even know if I'll send this.

It was April 18, and I was waiting in one of the Ministry's interrogation chambers. Middle of the day – I hadn't slept at all the previous night and I hadn't had anything to eat for almost two days. The least they could have offered me was a glass of water, but I didn't even get that.

"You killed a man, Ms Greengrass."

I have never liked Harry Potter as much as I probably ought to. He is the Wizarding world's hero, their poster boy, the one they love. If you don't like him, people assume you are trying to be _edgy_, or thinking it's cool to _think against the flow_. That, or you are a Dark Lord supporter. I am not attempting to be edgy or think against the flow, nor am I a Dark Lord supporter. I just genuinely do not like Harry Potter, for no other reason than I do not like him. Not all emotions are rational.

From his face, I could sense the feeling was mutual.

"It was self defence," I said.

From a certain point of view, it was. Ignatius Pantera was holding a gun; I disarmed him. He attacked; I defended.

_This is for Titania, you_ _bastard_. His head snapping back sharply, the bullet smacking him straight between the eyes…

"Right," Potter said, and I knew he didn't believe me. He'd been an Auror too long – he's spoken to too many murderers – to know when someone was lying. Except when that someone happens to be a fellow Auror putting on an idiot act. You were right: some Auror _he_ is.

Vitus stood behind me, a quiet pillar of strength. He stepped forward and touched my arm, ever so slightly. "I was witness to it, Mr Potter," he said. We didn't look at each other, but my lips managed to curve into a small smile to let him know how much I appreciated it. How much I appreciated _him_. I know you don't understand it, Draco, but like I said before… not all emotions are rational. "Astoria is telling the truth."

Potter glanced back and forth between us, putting two and two together. "Right," he said again, and scrawled something down on some parchment. "So let me get this straight. After sending Draco Malfoy a letter incriminating Ignatius Pantera as a suspect in the murders of at least seven people, you – Astoria Greengrass – feared he would confront Pantera on his own. Shortly afterwards, I, Harry Potter, received the evidence supporting the theory and a request from Malfoy to go to Pantera's private practice in Diagon Alley. Upon your arrival – with Vitus Fallone –"

"We were together at the time Astoria sent the letter to Mr Malfoy."

Potter blinked as us. "I… see," he said, then continued. "Upon your arrival, you heard a gunshot."

"Three," I corrected. "Three gunshots."

"Three gunshots," Potter amended, frowning to himself. "You rushed in to –"

"Do we really need to go through all of this again, Potter?"

He put his quill down and glared at me. "Actually, yes, Ms Greengrass, we do. You rushed into the room to find Pantera leaning over Draco Malfoy, holding a gun, and the body of the young woman on the ground near the door. You used _Accio_ to take the gun."

"Yes."

"All right." He wrote that down.

"Is that all?"

He put the quill down again, harder this time. "I suspect that it's all I'll be getting from you."

"Your suspicions are correct."

Potter leaned back in his chair. "I'll just make up the rest of your statement then, shall I?"

"If you'd be so kind."

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He didn't look well, I recall thinking. Ill and exhausted, as if the whole ordeal was simply too much for him. "We do offer therapy sessions for people who have been involved in homicides," he said. "If you require –"

"Mr Potter," I said, "I don't feel sick. I don't hate myself. I don't regret what I did and if I had the chance, I'd do it all over again."

He watched me for a second, then gathered his things. "I don't recommend you say that during the Hearing, Ms Greengrass." He nodded at me. "See you later."

I didn't end up seeing him later, of course. There was no Hearing – a little irregular, but I suppose the Ministry didn't want there to be too much scandal around one of their own being a serial killer. The papers focused on you instead, probably thanks to Potter's influence with the press, how reformed Death Eater Draco Malfoy, father to a Squib, used his amateur detective skills to trace the murders back to Ignatius Pantera. No mention of me in the papers, which was fine – I didn't investigate Pantera for fame. I wanted justice for Titania.

Those nine days were dreadful, while you were unconscious. The first two days no-one knew if you were going to wake up. I still can't believe you'd be so _stupid_ as to rush in like that and confront a killer. You almost died, Draco.

I know people expect I would have taken in Scorpius and dropped Livia off at an orphanage, but they're wrong. I… I would have taken her in. I would have had no idea what to do, but I would have taken her in.

Thankfully it didn't come to that. You had been in hospital for five days when I went to Hogwarts to collect Scorpius first. He was furious with you, and rightly so; I took him back to the Manor and we waited for news.

"What about Livia?" Scorpius asked that night.

"What about her?"

That was the wrong thing to say. He sat up, outraged and hurt, and snapped, "She should know! She should be here!"

I was too tired to bring up excuses as to why I couldn't go and get her to tell her about you. I nodded. "Yes, she should. I'll… get her tomorrow."

"You don't even know where she is," Scorpius grumbled, and he was right, I didn't, but I unlocked the spells on your desk to find the paperwork for her Muggle school after I sent Scorpius to bed.

Contrary to common belief, I _have_ been to Muggle London before. I didn't like it at all and never thought I'd have to do it again, but I wasn't a complete stranger to it. I travelled by Floo to a distant relative's house in Kent, and made my way to Pembury from there. Yes, Draco, I walked, and I found the school within a few hours. It wasn't hard. I even had the sense to change my outer robe to a jacket similar to the ones the Muggles were wearing.

It's a nice school, the one you've sent Livia to. The fees must be astronomical, though. I know I never offered and I know you'd never ask, but… if you need my help to pay for her fees, I will.

"My name is Astoria Greengrass," I introduced myself at what I presumed was the front desk. "I'm Livia Malfoy's mother. I need to see her immediately. It's about her father. He's… been in an accident."

I was made to wait in the Headmistress's office. I didn't care much for the people there, or for the room itself, and I also didn't care for how long it took for one of the teachers to speak with me.

"Ms Greengrass, how do you do. I'm Marian Halcombe, one of Livia's teachers." The Muggle sat down across from me. "I have someone going to collect Livia now from her English class. I… I heard that Mr Malfoy has been in an accident. Is he all right? What happened?"

_Why do you care?_ I felt like saying, but the Muggle was clearly concerned about you.

"Draco is and always has been an idiot," I said. "He charged after a serial killer, got into a fight and was strangled to the point of unconsciousness. He nearly died on the way to the hospital and now he's in a coma on life-support systems."

I am not one for edging carefully. That was what happened and if she was so concerned about you then she could handle hearing the blunt hard truth.

The Muggle pressed her hand to her mouth and went desperately pale. "Oh, my God…" she murmured. "Will – will he be all right?"

"I don't know."

The Muggle left when Livia arrived. She held her hand at the door and murmured something about 'just being outside if you need me'. Then Livia came in, the Muggle closed the door, and I met Livia's eyes.

"Hello, Livia."

"Hello," she replied.

She'd grown up so much. I imagine one day she will be very beautiful; she resembles me quite strongly, aside from her pale colouring that is so like your own. But where I am cold by nature (according to so many people), she was cold by necessity and situation. You've been teaching her well, Draco.

"Why are you here, Ms Greengrass?" Livia said.

I wasn't brave enough to ask her to call me 'Mum'. "It's your father," I said. "He's been hurt."

Her careful mask cracked a bit, revealing her as the nine-year-old girl she actually was. "Is he okay?" she said. She tried to sound brave, but the waver in her tone betrayed her.

"He –"

I try to say _yes, he'll be fine_, but the truth was, I didn't know. The Healers were saying by that day that you would make a full recovery if you woke up, but that was an _if_, not a _when_. Livia was looking at me for the first time in more than a year. There was no coldness or detached superiority she greeted me with mere moments prior – there was only fear in her eyes. Some distant, disowned part of me longed to be able to drop down beside her and hold her and tell her that you would be fine, but it was wistfulness: the wish that I _could_ do that, the wish that I had the _ability_ to. I did not possess that true emotion.

"I don't know," I said truthfully. "You can leave your things here. I'm taking you back to the Manor until we hear more from St Mungo's."

She nodded, and followed me.

You more or less know what happened in the days after that; I'm certain Scorpius filled you in. Livia stayed in her room, Scorpius stayed in his, I refused to speak to the press. When you woke up, I told the children, and the next day I brought them to the hospital to see you.

After I brought them to your room, I left. They seemed so happy to be with you, and I know better than anyone that I no longer have a proper place in your lives. We had a good few months working together, Draco, and I hope we can remain on non-antagonistic terms. But we were never really husband and wife, were we? We weren't in love. We had a good few years and we tried to make it work, but we both wanted different things. I would be lying if I said I didn't have a few regrets about some choices I made, especially in the last two years. But in the end… I think it was for the best that we parted ways.

Vitus was waiting for me when I stepped out of your room. He came up to me and held my shoulders, and I sighed and leaned into him.

"Astoria?"

"I hope you know what you're getting yourself into, Vitus Fallone."

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I am. Who I am. What I'm like. You still have a chance to run."

"Why would I do that?"

"I'm not… I'm not a nice person, Vitus."

"No," he agreed. "But you're a damned interesting one."

That's probably the nicest and most honest thing someone has said to me in a long time.

I'm happy, Draco. I have regrets, but I know of no-one who doesn't regret at least one thing. You're all right and the kids are happy with you.

I think I will send this letter to you after all. I know I said up above that we'd said most of what he had to say to each other already, but I think you deserve to read this. Some things are better said than not.

I wish you and the children all the very best, Draco. Try not to get yourself killed.

Yours sincerely,

Astoria Fallone


	2. auditory hallucination

_Disclaimer:__ These stories are based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

Author's Notes: This is something of a conceptual scene. I wrote this several months before I started writing _Ronald Weasley and the Midlife Crises_, so I really hadn't grasped a good hold on Ron's voice, and I had vague plans to fit this piece into the actual story somehow. As it turned out, it never made it to the final cut and the plot went off in a slightly different direction. I'm immensely happy with the final version of _Midlife Crises_, so I don't regret that this piece never made it to the final cut, but I'm still very fond of this snippet. So I hereby present to you an omake from the _journals & ice cream_ series!

* * *

Summary: Omake/outtake; conceptual piece for _Midlife Crises_. Ronald Weasley rues the day Hermione taught Malfoy how to use a mobile phone.

**auditory hallucination**

_an excerpt from the journal of Ronald Weasley_

_13.7.2020_

I rue the day Hermione taught Draco Malfoy how to use a mobile phone.

I'm scarred for life now. I mean it. I really do. He called me up in the middle of the dinner I was having with Hermione, Harry and Ginny. I swear to Merlin, I am taking that thing away from him as soon as I can because as far as I care, Draco Malfoy should _not_ be allowed near phones. Or Muggles.

I mean, _bloody hell_.

_"I slept with someone."_

"Er." I looked at the caller ID. "Malfoy?"

_"Didn't you hear me?!"_

He sounded like he was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Again. I groaned. "Oh my God, Malfoy, _please_ tell me you aren't going to call me in a panic every time you have sex!" To my credit, I managed to make Harry choke on his wine. Payback for that comment he pulled about my hair. Which is _not_ falling out. I had to leave the table because Hermione and Ginny started laughing and it really wasn't a conversation I wanted to have in front of them. "And please tell me it wasn't Astoria again –"

_"It wasn't."_

"Okay, good start." I frowned. "So who was it, then?"

_"Her name's Marian. I've sort of been seeing her for a while."_

"Hey, didn't know you were dating again." After the, er, failed speed-dating thing. Yeah. That… _could_ have gone a bit better.

_"We aren't really _dating_, per se,"_ he said. I rolled my eyes.

"Semantics. You're freaking out because…?"

_"…becauseshesortofdoesn'tknowI'mawizardyet."_

I went back to the table and downed my entire glass of wine. "Okay. Sorry. I think I just auditory hallucinated. What?"

_"She doesn't know I'm a wizard yet."_

I really wish someone had told me during school I'd one day be dealing with Draco Malfoy's midlife crisis so I might have time to prepare for it, because I just really couldn't do it. I wordlessly handed the phone to Harry so I excuse myself to the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror and cry.

Okay, fine. It wasn't that dramatic. I did have another glass of wine, though.


	3. the demons of our darker nature

_Disclaimer:__ These stories are based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

Author's Notes: Set from _Draco Malfoy and the Trials of Single Parenthood_ to a year before _The Invention of Hugo Weasley_. This story is a one-shot and a peek at what Draco and Livia have been up to over the years. It also breaks with the epistolary structure of the series, which is why I haven't included it within the main stories.

* * *

Summary: Five times Draco wishes Livia could use magic, and the one time he doesn't.

**the demons of our darker nature**

_one_. February 19th, 2018

"I'm not going to Hogwarts, am I."

She's not crying yet, nor is her voice broken. She says it in a quiet tone, very matter-of-factly, but if anything that just breaks Draco's heart even more. "I don't think so, Livia," he replies, and his daughter starts to shake.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," she whispers, and hugs her knees tighter to her chest.

There will always be injustice in the world, but there is one that even he cannot fight or rage against. There are people who spit on him in the street, others who have judged Scorpius for Draco's crimes – but he can battle those. He can build his public image again and teach Scorpius to rise above the small minded, and throw money at situations until they turn in his favour.

He cannot give his daughter magic. All he can do is hold her as she cries and tell her he loves her, and work to give her the best possible life she can have regardless.

* * *

_two_. April 28th, 2019

He hates himself for putting himself in danger like that. Hates himself for doing that to his _children_.

He holds them as they fall asleep next to him, one on either side of him, in his bed in St Mungo's. "I'm sorry," he whispers.

Scorpius would have been all right. He has good friends, a strong will, a promising future in the Wizarding world. No matter what happened, no matter who he ended up with, he'd be all right if Draco had died.

But no matter how much things had changed over the past year for his daughter, Livia would _not_ have been all right. He's not sure who she might have ended up with – Daphne, perhaps, or Narcissa. He knows they'd love her, but they don't understand what it is he's doing for her. Without him, she doesn't have a future.

He wishes this didn't have to happen to her.

* * *

_three_. December 17th, 2021

The publicity tends to wear one down after a while.

She's the darling of the magical world – Miss Livia Malfoy, who always has a quirky opinion to share on a social issue. A young spokesperson and role model for the unfortunate few who are born without magic, receiving both a Muggle and Magical education.

(The amount of money he's spent on clothes for her is obscene.)

She speaks to the press on her own now, smiles for the cameras like she has a secret and it makes them adore her – but today Draco does the talking for her, walking through the Ministry with a journalist who is taking notes, because he saw the tired shadows in her eyes after the last time.

* * *

_four._ August 10th, 2023

He knows she hates the magical theory lessons. Draco is not ignorant to the flicker of bitterness in her eyes when he sits down with her to go over magical theory, but she never says so – not to him, anyway. He guesses she probably complains about it in her letters to Hugo.

_I'm sorry_, he thinks as he quizzes her on the theoretical properties of Charms. She gets it all right, of course, but he knows she's thinking, _what's the point if I will never be able to use it?_

He lets her read through those books on the Dark Arts that he never let Scorpius near, because… well, she's never going to be able to use it.

* * *

_five_. July 24th, 2025

Draco remembers the eight year old girl who used to jump on his bed to wake him up, the girl who used to get ice cream all over her face, and the girl who used to buzz with excitement over the possibility of visiting Muggle London. The girl who was joyful and brimming with energy and life.

He can't see that girl in his daughter anymore when she smiles for the cameras, being Miss Livia Malfoy, non-magical darling of the Wizarding world. He can't see that girl when Marian tells him that Livia doesn't have friends, Muggle or magical – she has followers.

He misses her.

* * *

_one_. March 11th, 2028

Marian is right: Livia doesn't have friends, she has _followers_. Her Muggle friends follow her around, desperate for approval – and the _Daily Prophet_ has at least one article with her name in it every publication. Draco doesn't know how she managed it but the Notts owe her a favour, and ever since that last interview Jeremias Fawley has lost almost half of his family's fortune.

(The only person she truly smiles for and doesn't ask for favours, outside of her family, is Hugo.)

_I've done that to her_, he realises – and for the first time in his life, he's glad Livia cannot use magic.


End file.
